Six of Hearts
by Pollux Unbound
Summary: The 6 find themselves on a 3on3 seniors vs rookies match. Rookies complain and agonize over their defeat due to the outrageously unfair teamup. They hated the seniors' guts, but can't get enough of them either. Yaoi. MitRu, HanaSen, KiyoFuji. Nonangstsy.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Six of Hearts

**Summary**: The six find themselves on a 3-on-3 match. Rookies complain and agonize over their loss due to the outrageously unfair team-up. But, later on, they end up asking for more. Yaoi. MitRu, HanaSen, KiyoFuji.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Slam Dunk. Takehiko Inoue does.

Kiyota Nobunaga knew it was his lucky day. He woke up brightly after a nine-hour slumber, hopped in the tub and had a protein-enriched breakfast courtesy of his mom. He then sped off to one of Kanagawa's numerous public basketball courts. Once there, as if his luck couldn't go any higher, the entire whole court was empty.

The left corner of his lips ascended higher up his cheek to form a mischievous smile just before he dribbled his way to the rim. This routine then ended with a reverse dunk from six feet downtown. Time and again, he would soar up the air to torture the metal rim with deadly dunks, clamoring some silly announcements in the process as though he were also given the tasks best left for professional commentators.

"Jason Richardson style!", "Kevin Garnett fakes, eludes, and he scores!" and so on.

But not long after he made his twelfth successful fancy shot, the high-flying rookie resigned from his little occupation upon hearing the familiar sound of a ball. The sound was unmistakably that of a ball making repeated contact with the cement floor. Apparently, someone had come to join him and was dribbling his way to the freshman.

"Those are some smooth moves you got there." Said an unfamiliar voice from behind.

"Nyahahahaha! I wouldn't be named Kanagawa's number one rookie if I didn't have 'em!" Kiyota's mouth preceded him before turning to look at the person.

Kenji Fujima had come to share his luck.

…

Akira Sendoh stirred his coffee rather listlessly as he scanned the front page of a sports magazine. Magazines provided by salons and coffee shops are usually outdated and the one he had in his hands offered no new interesting information at all. He nodded and beamed at the waitress who served him his sandwich. His smile lingered on so that she clumsily stalked off with scarlet cheeks, thanks to his deadly charms.

Not long after perusing an article about a professional basketball player's arrest for drug use, he was interrupted by a series of impatient knocks on the tempered-glass window of the shop.

He was indeed surprised to see Hanamichi Sakuragi, in his basketball attire, waving at him and motioning at him to go outside as if the world would crumble to ruin had he chosen to ignore him. Instinctively, he finished his coffee in one gulp, grabbed his untouched sandwich before dashing out the door.

"What's up?" Sendoh asked curiously.

"What's up? What's up with you looking all sentimental and dining alone in this beautiful morning when you can instead, I dunno, play ball?" There was a hint of annoyance in the redhead's voice, leaving the sophomore almost taken aback.

"Ahaha.." Sendoh let out a soft laugh, scratching the back of his head.

"Bitter about the loss, huh?" Sakuragi asked upon surveying the Ryonan ace.

"That? Of course not. I just need a break, I guess."

"Doesn't look like it." Sakuragi observed meticulously.

The taller boy took the initiative of changing the subject, "So, how's practice going? I bet Nationals will be a lot tougher than you think—"

"A break is what you'll get." Sakuragi intervened and snatched the sandwich off Sendoh's hand without as much as 'I'll have that'. "Come on, let's go one-on-one." He offered Sendoh, whose breakfast he was munching.

"One-on-one?" Sendoh asked, looking faintly innocent.

"Yeah. You versus me."

"I'm not dressed for that."

Sakuragi studied the sophomore, "Oh is that so? What's with the new Dwayne Wade kicks and the Nike Dri-fit duds? And I must say, I like that pair of jogging pants you're in; I'm betting they're Adidas Clima-lite. Really, I'm quite certain you're off to a wedding or a funeral in that regalia." Sakuragi finished, his sarcasm maniacally swinging between irritation and triumph.

"Okay, okay, you got me. But you're gonna pay me my sandwich back if you lose." Sendoh grinned.

"Ahahahaha! You better call your mom now and tell her lunch should still better be served when you get home; you don't wanna wait 'til seven for supper. I ain't gonna lose to you."

…

Hisashi Mitsui had only gone two blocks from his house when he recognized a familiar figure walking ahead of him, apparently heading to the same direction.

"Oi, Rukawa!"

The raven-haired boy slowed to a halt and slightly turned his head.

"Sempai."

"Hi. I'm off to practice my shots but Shohoku Stadium's packed with volleyball players so I'll have to do with the public court. You?" Mitsui asked as if he still hadn't figured out the answer to that already; Rukawa was sporting his usual warm-up attire and was holding a ball at his side.

"Me too."

"Great, we can practice together then." The senior beamed, immensely relieved by having someone like Rukawa to privately practice with. This relief was due to his being a frequent customer of public basketball parks. Only finding mediocre opponents and training buddies during his sessions outside the Shohoku stadium, he had been always bored during weekends when no team practice was scheduled. In fact, earlier that day, he had already made a list in his mind of the series of events which would consist his usual visit to the court. How many times had he been challenged to a 3-on-3 half-court game, without having to gain additional skills or knowledge as far as basketball was concerned? How many more of these games should he have to engage in, or to suffer, to prove these guys that he was simply too good for them?

But running into Kaede Rukawa would definitely alter the day's supposed utter predictability.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The Kainan rookie had never before this drawn himself to so close a proximity to the Shoyo superstar-coach-captain-ace. When he almost dropped his ball upon realizing that the senior was advancing on him, his composure buckled all at once.

"No training today?" Fujima asked casually, firing a fade-away shot from 12 feet away. His stance, Kiyota observed, was perfect even when he used his left hand to push the ball. As a result, it all gave Kiyota an idea of how unpredictable things could get if he were to play against this guy. His keen observation also did not miss the fact that the Shoyo ace released the ball when he was yet to reach the zenith of his jump.

This can't be a sure ball, Kiyota thought.

Swack.

Nothing but net. Kiyota could barely restrain his amazement, so much that he forgot he was just asked a question.

"No training today? National Tournament is serious business." Fujima repeated.

"Oh, uh, today's a non-training day for us. Yeah, that's why." Aside from being intimidated by the senior's skills, he was also being made thoroughly aware of this person's reputation as Shinichi Maki's sole nemesis. To add on that, the formality of Fujima's voice made him sound so professional and mature, and that was enough to make Kiyota wince.

"I see…one-on-one? Nothing serious; I'm just not in the mood to waste my time on studying my shots' projectile and the physics of my game."

The freshman swallowed the lump that had built up in his throat.

…

A mixture of disappointment and agitation almost drove Sakuragi to uproot the lamp post at the entrance upon discovering that the basketball court was occupied. Sendoh managed to restrain him by pointing the absence of any other ballers on the other side of the court, which would then warrant them a place to conduct their very own one-on-one stint.

"Oh, yeah, you're right hahaha…"

Sakuragi unloaded his stuff on the side-court bench and started warming up. On the other hand, Sendoh drew closer to the showdown. Before long, he began to watch the game intently.

"Kuso.." the redhead mumbled contemptuously, apparently because whatever Sendoh's immobility was implying was plain to him: the Ryonan jock wasn't going to take him as seriously as to pull stretches. That, of course, was not the real case. And so after a series of stretches, he approached Sendoh with a menacing glare as if the latter had incurred on him some unholy offense. But before he could say anything, Sendoh spoke,

"Interesting match up."

"Huh?"

"Kenji Fujima versus Kiyota Nobunaga."

Sakuragi managed to understand what the sophomore was talking about upon closer inspection of the two players, both of whom apparently unaware of the attention they had just invented. And even less aware were they of whatever opinions their spectators might have been articulating.

"Hmmm…" Sakuragi seemed to have forgotten the 'insult' Sendoh had unknowingly and unintentionally committed against him. He continued while rubbing his chin, looking as though he had been presented a puzzle waiting to be solved, "Interesting indeed; a complete mismatch."

Sendoh nodded in agreement, his eyes still locked on the two.

"Do you know why?" He asked the redhead, sounding like a teacher who was waiting for the student's response, with full knowledge and anticipation that he was to receive a decent answer, if not a correct one. Truth was, Sakuragi's comment made perfectly good sense; it was all too easy to decipher. It would've been foolish to expect a senior player of Fujima's star quality to break a sweat in a match against a mere rookie, even granted the latter could jump all the way from the foul line to the basket.

"Wild monkey will scar benchwarmer's ass. LITERALLY." Sakuragi remarked. Apparently, the product of his observation could only reach a skin-deep conclusion when uninterested.

Sendoh unlocked his gaze from Fujima and Kiyota to stare at Sakuragi.

"…" He sighed, resuming his activity.

"I've got an idea!"

"Huh?"

"Let's play with them. You team up with benchwarmer while I team up with wild monkey. Two-on-two." Sakuragi proposed, neglecting the obvious possibility of his proposal turning out to be the most ridiculous match up ever to take place on local soil.

"Are you serious?" Sendoh asked, wide-eyed. His astonishment wasn't exactly borne out of self-confidence…or maybe it was. Wasn't Sakuragi aware that Sendoh, in their game against Kainan, just weeks ago, possibly had joined the ranks of Maki and Fujima and had turned the rivalry into a three-contestant competition? He turned to look at the redhead who was now seriously absorbing every move the two was making. There was really no point in expecting a turn-around to suddenly take place; Fujima was playing like a monster and Kiyota was to be his breakfast.

All things considered, the rookie wasn't a lousy player. On the contrary, his skills were something. Moreover, if it were the opposite there would be no starting slot reserved for him the Kainan Varsity Team. And that's not mentioning that entering Kainan Varsity alone was not a walk in the playground.

Sendoh, on the other hand, could remember vividly that moment: Kiyota's dunk over the 204cm tall Uozumi which initiated Kainan's turning of the table against them. Yet now, contrarily, every shot he fired was landing on Fujima's hands, blocked, stolen. More than that, every effort he exerted to prevent the Shoyo star from stretching his infinite-point lead ended futile, wasted and meaningless.

"Game. It's Kiyota and me vs. you and Fujima." Sakuragi was repeating. There was a distinct conviction in his tone of voice. Also, it was noticeable that he was now watching the two with no less intent than Sendoh's.

"Ok. After all, Shohoku and Kainan are Kanagawa's representatives in the National Tournament. Perhaps we can more or less give you a taste of the toughness of…whatever…let's wait 'til they finish."

The game ended with the freshman trailing by 8 baskets. Of course, he wasn't too happy to find the two sets of eyes which had come to witness his disgrace. For all he knew, they could just testify to the entire universe against his reputation as an athlete.

"Kuso!" Kiyota cursed barely above a whisper as he fought the urge to gather his belongings and to march off unannounced, like some brat.

"Not bad." Fujima commented.

Sakuragi had waited long enough for them to finish dilly-dallying.

"2-on-2." He stepped up to Nobunaga who didn't seem, in the least, threatened by the redhead's towering figure.

"Huh?"

Fujima turned his head to Sendoh, who made an it's-not-my-idea gesture, shrugging his shoulders as he did so.

"You heard me." Sakuragi continued, shifting his eyes to Fujima.

As if some smart idea suddenly crawled up Kiyota's head, a wide evil grin gradually painted itself on his face. It was a good time indeed to erase the unsalvageable mess he got himself into earlier by consenting to a 1-on-1 with Fujima.

"Fine. I should team up with Sendoh cos Fujima-san and I are both 178cm and you two 6-plus footers should split."

"Moron. What's the point of you or me teaming up with either of them? I say freshmen versus oldies."

Fujima had just downed a bottle of Pocari Sweat. He stood up, smiled and said, "Okay then.", obvious excitement sneaking its way to his lips.

"But—" Kiyota started. More than anything else, he was sure it was gonna be a blow-out game, if not exactly a moral suicide. Come to think of it, he was even more sure of it than he was of the sun's eventual settlement to the west.

"Shut up, saru. If we beat benchwarmer and hedgehog right here right now, we'll make history. Don't tell me you're scared."

"…"

Sendoh, who had been silent for quite some time now, took the responsibility of translating Sakuragi's proposal to its more convincing version, "Arguably," he started, searching for the right words to make his point sound as modest as possible, "the title 'Best Player in Kanagawa' lies somewhere between Maki-san, Fujima-san and me. Having said that, our combination may be of National standards, therefore this is a good opportunity for you two. In this game, I will exhibit my all-out skills." He finished.

Finally, the outline of Sakuragi's idea began to take shape in the other rookie's head.

"Interesting." Fujima said, still grinning.

"In short, I'm getting my ass whipped twice in a row in one freaking day." Kiyota told Sakuragi through gritted teeth. As his temper was already getting sour, he made for his towel without waiting for a response.

"I'll do some stretching. I suppose Fujima-san and Kiyota-kun are still in need of a few minutes to catch their breaths." Sendoh volunteered.

Sakuragi started dribbling merrily. Beside him, Kiyota went on cursing and mumbling complaints under his breath.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

"It's occupied"

"Which?"

"The basketball court." Rukawa pointed out monotonously when they got near enough the chicken-wire fence surrounding the public basketball court.

Mitsui didn't answer. He pressed his forehead against the fence and focused his eyes on the brown-haired boy seated on the floor.

"Isn't that Shoyo's Kenji Fujima?"

At the mention of the name, Rukawa stopped dead on his tracks and turned to join Mitsui's observation, never minding that their shoulders were almost touching.

"That's Sendoh there." The freshman said.

"And that rookie Kiyota Nobunaga."

"And moron." Rukawa finished, recognizing Sakuragi.

"They're stretching. You don't suppose they're gonna take on 2-on-2, do you?" Mitsui asked, despite knowing the answer to that already. As a matter of fact, a certain recollection arose from his thoughts. During practice sessions lately, Sakuragi had always harped about outplaying three of the four MVP candidates on a 1-on-1 game. One of the aforementioned four, obviously, was their captain, Takenori Akagi, whom the redhead had allegedly 'defeated' (under ridiculous circumstances) in his earlier attempts of entering the basketball team. The other three were none other that Shinichi Maki, Akira Sendoh and…Fujima? Fujima didn't make it to the MVP roster because Shoyo didn't make it to the semi-finals. But he was Maki's sole rival, which would mean the redhead might have been referring to him, after all.

Of course it didn't occur to Mitsui, or to anyone for that matter, that the redhead would take his bragging to new heights by actually challenging anyone of them head-on. And Maki was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he sent his minion, Kiyota Nobunaga...

This ticked Mitsui off. He thought it was a deliberate injustice on Sakuragi's part to arrange such a good opportunity without tipping him or any of his teammates off. Naturally, this irritation had a lot to do with being tired of playing against no-challenge, zero-talent street ballers whose faces he'd forget the moment he would stray his eyes from them. And now, there was his teammate Hanamichi Sakuragi, with two of the best players in Kanagawa, off to make the biggest show of street basketball in the history of this local soil.

"Not without us." Rukawa answered, apparently sharing the senior's sentiments.

"Right. Let's convert that to 3-on-3."

…

"An all-star convention I presume." Mitsui started, announcing his arrival, Rukawa trailing closely behind.

"Mitchy! Hahaha." Sakuragi greeted, surprisingly glad to see his teammate. His smile was suddenly abducted by the wind as soon as his eyes fell on Rukawa, "And Kitsune." He added.

"Do'ahou." came the reply.

Kiyota snorted at the sight of Rukawa.

"So," Mistui started, "what's the set up?"

Fujima stood up with faint trace of amusement still clinging to his face, and then he proposed, "How about seniors versus freshmen?"

Silence ensued, before a storm of protests from the rookies erupted.

"Kitsune's a ball-hogger." Sakuragi opposed, without bothering to conceal his hostility.

"I agree." Kiyota said in a very misplaced business-like manner.

"Morons." came the ever so famous one-word retaliation.

"Set-up sounds good to me." Mitsui managed to say amidst the violent objections issuing from the three rookies.

"Sounds good to me too." Sendoh echoed.

As for Kiyota, he could contain his vexation no longer. What were these three seniors thinking? Two aces from some of Kanagawa's best teams and a former MVP all against three freshmen? Why, he might as well wring their necks to knock some logic somewhere in their heads.

"Oh yeah? Why don't I just call Maki-sempai now, and you go call Akagi-san. That makes five of you, Fujima-san, Mitsui-san, Sendoh, Akagi-san and Maki-sempai. And Rukawa here will phone the zoo and request for five squirrels and have them play against you seniors instead. And maybe-" Kiyota could not finish the exercise of his considerable creativity for sarcasm because Sakuragi had just buried a ball up his ass.

"Ouch! You moron!"

"Shut up. And don't call me moron, moron. What kind of attitude is that anyway? Sakuragi snapped before continuing, "I see it now. They're looking down on us, cos we're rookies. Do you want to prove them wrong? You guard benchwarmer. I'll take hedgehog. And, Kitsune, you go watch Lame-o."

At this, Mitsui winked at Sendoh who returned the look with an equally fascinated nod. This didn't escape Sakuragi's eyes.

"You better be sorry for your 3-pointing ass, Mitchy." He warned the senior and turned to Sendoh, "You'll end up nursing your slam-dunking ass." And lastly he faced Fujima, "As for you, you'd wish you've literally fried your behind instead because you three are-"

"Cut it with the ass comments; let's get this show going." Mitsui interrupted.

…

It was embarrassment far exceeding in horror Kiyota Nobunaga's worst nightmare. As it was, having played earlier against the coach captain would have more or less made him acquainted with the senior's playing techniques. But all there was to find was himself, lost in trying to apply what he had supposedly learned. He felt no better than a horseshoe crab struggling to exist in a sea full of tiger sharks.

Things were not faring so well for the redhead either. His newly acquired efficiency in lay-up shots and jump shots was perhaps worth a special mention. All the same, the difference in skills was just simply tremendous. Although he had stamina bordering on limitless and jumping ability that could equal that of a pro, experience still prevailed in the end. His intuition of the game was not as precise as he had initially led himself to believe. He began to wonder if his superb performance against Ryonan was just entirely painted by luck or other such wonders fortune was capable of providing. In the end, it was perhaps too early for him to challenge Akira Sendoh.

Kaede Rukawa was not the type who would underestimate his opponents. He was, however, somehow disappointed when he was not asked to guard Sendoh whom he considered his archrival. But the game would turn out to be a completely different story. While the threat which Mitsui served on his table was simple enough to understand, it was hardly answerable. Who was now Shohoku's ace? The question affected him enough to take the initiative of settling the matter by asking the senior to a one-on-one match a few days prior. In the end, Rukawa had failed to fully grasp the full extent of the ex-MVP's capabilities, and the reason for that was shallow: Mitsui cheated. But neither the cheating nor anything besides which might've transpired in that match could've altered the general truth here, the truth that Mitsui was a genius scorer. And scoring, after all, more or less determined a match's outcome. On top of things, the opportunity of having to guard Mitsui had eluded him for more than he could count. As things stood, it appeared this 3 on 3 game would be the answer he was seeking.

I am Shohoku's ace, indisputably, he thought. But this self-assuring mantra began to evaporate gradually like mists. Yes, Mitsui was the type who'd get worn out easily, while he himself had physical prowess such as you'd seldom see among high school athletes. But what was happening? For some reason, offensive fouls were being drawn from him, as if he would fail to pierce through Mitsui's defense the moment he decided to. And the senior was looking so exhausted he could barely lift his arms, and yet why did it seem like he could read Rukawa's actions and intercept the ball at the perfect time? Sure, no fly-swatting wonders were involved but possessions were being stolen nonetheless. Worse, those 3-pointers were seriously getting on the three rookies' tits, so much that Rukawa was being made to recall their game against Kainan, where Jin's shots demolished Shohoku's chances.

TBC

Note: Sorry Rukawa, Mitsui happens to be my favorite character.


	4. Chapter 4

The race to 30 game ended.

"What was that all about?!" Sakuragi started, kicking Kiyota's ball out of sight. Later on, the ball would come to be forgotten.

"What was that all about? That was 40 minutes of humiliation, 40 miserable minutes of my otherwise wonderful life!" Kiyota blared hysterically, sending saliva spewing from his mouth.

"Yeah thanks to Kitsune here for allowing Mitchy to get four 3-pointers in." Sakuragi scowled as he shot a poisonous look at the fellow rookie.

"I'm not the one who got nothing more than air-balls and rejected throws courtesy of Sendoh." Rukawa spoke, not taking his eyes off the redhead.

"Don't get so full of yourself; you only got 3 baskets in."

"You two only got 2 each."

Unfortunately, Kiyota, who had no patience left to tolerate any more criticisms, joined in Sakuragi's and Rukawa's harsh exchanges.

"You should've let me handle Mitsui-san!" He yelled at the redhead on a very high note and continued, "I would've prevented him from scoring that much!" and ended his rant with a furious glare at Rukawa.

Rukawa, too, came to mind, to finally realize this wasn't the right time to exercise his usual silence. No, there was no way he could just take the blows of the frantic verbal onslaught against his regrettable performance. He spoke,

"It's as easy as saying you can't handle Fujima. I bet his dusts taste so good; it really looked like you couldn't get enough of them."

"Bastard."

The three seniors just stood there, watching and listening to the three's immature gripes, possibly more dumbfounded than they appeared to be.

"Ahahaha…they seem to be taking this more seriously than they need to." Fujima remarked.

"I must say, I miss being a freshman." Sendoh said, ignoring the fact that the three were cursing the lights out of the heavens.

"Well…that went pretty well. Nice game." Mitsui flashed a handsome smile at Sendoh and Fujima. They continued to exchange cordial remarks, all the while watching the three rookies render the 1-mile radial vicinity surrounding them doomed to endless bitching.

…

"I'm going home." Kiyota announced and stood up, clearly still languishing over their defeat. "Thanks for the game." He finished grudgingly, giving them a collective wave of goodbye.

Fujima was still mildly surprised at the freshmen's take on their loss. Nevertheless, he thanked Mitsui and Sendoh, and nodded at the two remaining rookies before announcing his departure.

"Let's do this again some other time." Mistui called out to him, to which he received a pleasant nod for a response.

"I gotta run; looks like it's gonna rain." Sendoh remarked, a very wide grin across his face. "See you around, Shohoku boys."

Sakuragi, who now seemed to be mulling their disgrace in silent fury, stood up and called out to the Ryonan ace,

"I still owe you a sandwich." Sakuragi reminded him.

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot."

And the two headed for the coffee shop, leaving Mitsui and Rukawa behind.

The freshman slung his towel on his shoulder and secured his ball between his arm and hip. Far from deciding to depart, the senior remained seated on the bench, somewhat oblivious to the sky's threat of a heavy downpour in a matter of minutes.

"I'll go now, sempai."

"See ya."

…

"Kuso!" Kiyota would mutter to himself over and over again in his travel towards the park's exit. Recounting the game's highlights was doing him no good. But, of course, there was no obliterating from his mind all those rejected shots and stolen drives as they were so recent. Hence he struggled to bring himself to think of anything besides basketball, if only to recover from the vexation he acquired from his recent attempt to leisure.

He would call his mom and would ask her to pick him up because his discomfort could end up conceivably worse should he persevere to walk home; he was on the verge of giving the concrete pavement a taste of destruction by slamming his head against it.

To his utter dismay, he could hear footsteps tracing his, despite being too occupied with

his bitter musings to pay them any heed. Again, the same voice he first heard that morning called out to him, seizing his attention all at once.

"What's your route, Kiyota-kun?" Kenji Fujima asked before formally making his presence known.

The aftermath of the game, unfortunately, was still thick upon him. As it was, without thinking and turning to look at who made the offers, he yelled back,

"I'm off to my neurologist! I'm gonna have the imbecilic memories of that game erased!"

The senior chuckled politely. Kiyota turned around to discover Fujima trailing a few steps behind him.

"Oh. It's you." The mildly-embarrassed freshman said.

"I take it we're on the same route. I live in 2nd district, Kurosawa street, you?"

"Oh, I'm from 3rd district, Zaraki street. I think that's only two streets from yours."

"You walking home?"

"I'm just about to call my mom to pick me up."

"I'll give you a lift then." Fujima proposed, without so much as imagining any objection as he stopped by a blue Toyota and reached for the keys in his pocket.

"I'll just call my mom."

"That'll hassle her. Hop on." Fujima insisted, to which the rookie finally obliged and made for the passenger seat. The senior cracked the engine to a start.

…

Akira Sendoh surreptitiously stole glances at the redhead. They were walking side by side, both finding it difficult to bring the freshman's performance into conversation. Surely, it might result to a violent outburst, so Sendoh decided against bringing the topic of basketball.

"You don't have to do this. I mean, I don't mind." Sendoh said in a rather awkward manner.

"I'm a man of my words; I agreed to treat you lunch if I lose." Sakuragi replied despondently.

So he's not all nonsense, Sendoh thought.

"A man of your words huh? You said you wouldn't lose." The sophomore smiled while he said this. This pun, apparently, was his way of finding out by degrees why the redhead had taken the loss with obvious difficulty. Was Sakuragi expecting that much of himself?

Sakuragi remained silent for a good few minutes, which Sendoh took as signals that he might have mishandled the situation. For a split second, Sakuragi's behavior made him expect a life-threatening bellow. But Sakuragi kept his quiet until they reached the counter.

"Two tuna clubhouse sandwiches and two iced white mocha."

They found a table by the window. In no time, Sakuragi began devouring his meal with the sort of enthusiasm which gave Sendoh immense relief.

"Wild monkey and Kitsune sucked big time."

The sophomore decided to take full advantage of the rookie's sudden change of behavior, by taking a shot at humor,

"Well said, hahaha."

"Hmp. You made a shit out of me too." Sakuragi scowled on his food.

"…"

"Let's do this again next time."

"Yeah, I'll pay the bill next time."

"Not this, baka. Basketball."

"Oh…sure, no problem."

The redhead finished eating. "So," he placed his hands on the table and clasped them together as though he was a detective performing a cross examination on a suspect,

"How were you able to tell if I was gonna shoot? I was faking most of the time; all to no avail." To Sakuragi's credit, he incorporated a huge amount of formality in his voice, thereby obscuring any signs of surliness towards Sendoh.

_So this is what it's all about_, the sophomore thought. He took a sip off his coffee before answering, "Easy. Your fakes fall a little below convincing. They're too abrupt, too clumsy to ensure you a basket. And YOU know it. It's that obvious. Your jump shots are good when left unguarded but I've noticed you tended to panic a little whenever I'd raise my arms in front of you."

"Hmmm…how do you steal a possession? I thought I had it all secured down there."

"You're dribbling's NOT weak; on the contrary, it's more on the aggressive side. However that may be, and unfortunately for you, I happen to be faster…and more aggressive."

"What should I do?"

"Alter your pattern of movements; you can direct your dribbling; cross-overs, under-the-leg, behind-the-back and so on."

"So you're saying I'm too basic?"

"Far from it. I say, I like your enthusiasm."

"Why couldn't I block your stupid shots? Or steal the ball?"

"It's psychological. It's because I was thinking that you can't; you know what I mean? I'm pretty sure you're capable of that, but I eliminate distractions by ignoring them; it wouldn't matter if you waved an elephant in front of me because it's all in the mindset. Focus. I'd just fire the shot anyway."

"I see. How long is it gonna take me to master all these?"

Sendoh paused and surveyed the redhead.

"You catch on pretty quick. Perhaps you're longing to hear something you've yet to hear. But if you haven't noticed, I've been bombarding you with a litany of clichés here. And here's something more cliché: it's more a matter of conviction and determination than experience or actual skills. I think you already know what that means."

Sakuragi leaned on his back and pondered silently.

"That's all?" he finally broke the lengthy silence.

"Just about it. It's not as tedious as it sounds."

Silence took over once more to allow the sophomore's words to be absorbed.

"I'll go home now; mom's probably worried."

"Ok. Thanks for the meal."

The redhead stood up and made his way to the door, but stopped halfway through as if remembering something. Slowly, hesitant words escaped his throat,

"I'll work on my game. If you're not busy, you can help me. I'll see you there whenever." It was said with much reluctance, as though he was asking an impossibly huge favor.

"Sure."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

No sooner than Rukawa reached the exit to the park did the rain begin pouring down mercilessly, leaving him pointlessly seeking shelter for he had been soaking wet from sweat to start with.

As he treaded the sidewalk parallel to the basketball court, he could see Mitsui firing shots into the basket. The magnitude of the rain would unquestionably blur one's view of the hoop and it would be nearly impossible for the ball to bounce off the concrete floor if one should consider the amount of water on it. But the senior appeared to have no plans of abandoning his activity. Instead, he relentlessly pestered the lifeless metal rim without signs of wanting to surrender to the unpleasant weather.

Rukawa found himself watching the senior with considerable alertness while he himself unknowingly became invulnerable to the cold wind himself.

The senior managed to pull 9/12 baskets in spite of the weather, which was kind enough to leave him with virtually nothing to steer his shooting arms to the right path. That should do it, he thought. He was reaching for the drenched towel on the bench when he, as if remembering something, suddenly thought against it. He turned back to grab the ball again and positioned himself in thirteen feet of diagonal distance from the basket. Without ceremony, he ran to the post with the ball still locked in his hands. He then launched off from five feet downtown, to Rukawa's great surprise. From there, he slammed the ball into a dunk. He finished his little show by landing directly below the post, still oblivious to the pair of cold blue eyes that had been covertly watching him for quite some time now.

The raven-haired boy stood rooted on the spot. Although the senior was only three centimeters shorter than he was, it never graced Rukawa's thoughts that Mitsui was of the slam dunking type/material. Upon deliberation, he deduced that if Kiyota Nobunaga's height warranted him a ticket for the fancy shot, it wouldn't be of great surprise if Mitsui was also capable of the same. But why was he not doing it in actual games?

As much as he refused to believe it, Rukawa himself was a bit of a show-off. He wouldn't miss an opportunity to exhibit his abilities to the extent of their limits. Pieces of thoughts began parachuting into his skull to gradually produce the pesky question "Is it really necessary to be all fancy?"

What he saw unquestionably ambushed him with how unexpected it was. So without feeling forced to do so, Rukawa braved the rain and traced his steps back to the basketball court.

…

"Sempai." The rain had not yet subsided, thus the freshman had to increase his volume to make the senior notice him.

"Oh, er, I'm done now…you need something, Rukawa?"

"One-on-one?" Rukawa said in a more than a little daunting tone.

His offer was met by nothing more than a blank stare. And then,

"If you haven't noticed, it's raining like there's not gonna be any rain left for the next ten years. Really, Mother Nature's gonna smack us black and blue for sure."

"I can see that." Rukawa said and deliberately shifted his gaze to the ball Mitsui was holding.

"Have you been watching me?" The senior asked accusingly.

Nod.

"Well, I simply needed to satisfy my occasional need of mindless crazy basketball, or something. And, now that it's done, I'm off to get myself dry." Mitsui said in his defense rather dismissively.

The rookie was watching his retreating back when Mitsui stopped in utter hesitation, to eventually turn his head to Rukawa,

"If you're still in pursuit of finding out who the ace of Shohoku is, it only means you're not giving yourself enough credit. Your persistence fails to cover your insecurities." He now turned the rest of his body to face the freshman, all the while chuckling meaningfully as if to cajole Rukawa out of his anti-social barrier. He continued, "Would it mean anything to you if I told you that you are ahead of me in all aspects of playing, that you surpass me in every statistical category? I guess not. You'd want to prove it yourself. Let me tell you this; I may not have a resource of unlimited stamina, nor do I possess the physical strength to slam the boards off its screws. Lastly, I certainly am not as driven as you are to prove the world I'm gonna make it big in no time. But, as I see it, you're also someone who gives the game more show than it needs. With all due respect, Rukawa, I don't think I'll _lose _to you."

Rukawa felt it was high time to use his rarely wasted words, but Mitsui had already commenced the continuation of his retreat.

…

Kiyota drummed his fingers on the dashboard along the beats of All American Rejects' "It Ends Tonight". The ride soon started to dissolve to an uncomfortable silence. With this, the rookie wanted so much to dissipate the gradually mounting awkwardness. But even the birds soaring several meters above them could sense that any mention of anything remotely related to basketball would surely blow the top off Fujima's car. And basketball seemed to be the only thing that connected him and the being next to him, who was practically a walking visual showcase.

Being this close to him, he marked how Fujima's angelic features were making him literally glow. In fact, his natural chestnut-colored head was most likely a source of envy for hair coloring manufacturers like L'oreal and Wella. In short, he was a living, breathing object of Kiyota's insecurities and intimidations.

"How long have you been driving?" Kiyota asked as the car glided in perfect coherence with the road's curves.

"About a year now. You have your driver's license already?"

"Yeah but thanks to my mom, I'm not allowed to drive on the highway." Kiyota said, frowning at the mention of highway.

"I see…haha…I figure Kainan's going under intense training."

The rookie forced a sigh, "Yeah, five hours daily." He figured he might have instead initiated the conversation by commenting on the level of the sky's blueness for it to inevitably land well on basketball, point blank, anyway. It was, in fact, the endless topic of discussion in Kiyota Nobunaga's life wherever he positioned himself into.

"That's to be expected. I have to commend you again for your performance." Fujima said just as the freshman was beginning to think the conversation had taken a turn he did not wish to pursue.

"…"

The senior shot him an amused look and returned his gaze on the road before continuing,

"I must say, your jumping ability's quite impressive, plus, your dribbling's way above rookie level."

Kiyota was now trapped between flattery and hilarity. Someone was actually exalting his performance on that accursed game whereas, earlier, he would have preferred to have been buried six feet under.

"So I have been told hahahaha!"

"That's the spirit."

…

The blue Toyota pulled to a stop right in front of Kiyota residence.

"Thanks for the ride…and for the game, Fujima-san."

"Don't mention it." At that, the senior released the brakes.

Kiyota had brushed past the foliage at their gate when Fujima pressed the brakes again to say,

"And for my comfort, call me Kenji." He zoomed off the narrow alley, waving his hand with his elbow resting on the half-open window.

…

Hanamichi Sakuragi would remain spaced out for classes on end for the following days. He had rented videos of And1 Mixed tapes and would watch them with much focus. Not a single move made by the players in the videos escaped his watchful eyes. He would rehearse those fancy tricks during non-practice sessions, and when it was finally time to put the fruits of his labor to test, he dialed Akira Sendoh's number and set an appointment at the public basketball court. This appointment would soon trigger its transition from a supposed one-time head-on challenge to a weekly or, make that, thrice-a-weekly routine.

"That's an improvement." came the sophomore's verdict, which was the first testimony to the redhead's success.

Their training became more and more frequent as they became warmer toward each other. Anyone venturing upon them would have easily accused them of having a very close relationship. For one thing, Sakuragi was sacrificing the nightly adventures with his Guntai of finding amusement for an hour of apprenticeship with Sendoh. As a result, his teammates would exhibit hints of amazement from his disturbing improvement. Of course, being the show off that he was, he would bask at his triumph without disclosing the source of his newfound wisdom of the game.

Before Sendoh knew it, he was squeezing time with the redhead in-between his tight schedule. There was no feeling of reluctance in what he had chosen to do because there was also no point denying that the redhead was good company. But their meetings could, of course, not always run a permanently smooth course.

Ring.

"Sendoh residence." Answered a woman's voice.

"May I speak with Akira Sendoh please." Sakuragi asked courteously.

"Uhm, he's gone for a short vacation."

"Oh."

"Uhm, is this Hanamichi Sakuragi?"

"Yes."

"He left a message for you. Akira says he'll resume giving you lessons when he gets back. That's two weeks. That's all."

"I see. Thanks."

"Bye."

He collapsed on his bed. In his mind, he might as well prepare himself for a long period of intense boredom. He felt his patience evaporate, so much that he was almost at the point of accusing Sendoh of betrayal by neglecting his duties of training him. He searched the deepest crevices of his mind for certain activities that would keep him occupied for two weeks. _Nothing. There's just no big-time thrill without him…Did I just say that? _He shook his head in disgust. He could very much do without Sendoh for a few weeks. It was just that he…he missed him?

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

His desire to take on Mitsui had clearly taken on a new urgency. Oddly, though, it wasn't for the same reason of the battle-for-ace title. As a matter of fact, Rukawa was rather apologetic about the way he exposed his vulnerability and bad self-esteem to the senior. To somewhat make up for his mistake, he would always be the last to leave the stadium for days, with the tenacity to fight the urge of challenging Mitsui again. While this awkwardness was running its course, Rukawa was, for the most part, restraining his competitive side which was, needless to say, a huge part of his being. And that in itself was an achievement.

Ever since that episode in the rain, the senior had been trying to resolve the tension by bridging their gap by also staying late in he stadium after practice. Should the freshman's offer come to be uttered, Mitsui resolved he would accept it, without a comment or two.

But it didn't come.

"I thought you'd like to take me on?" Mitsui asked one night, strictly out of curiosity.

"…"

"One week ago you were pervasive enough to suffer the rain for a one-on-one…What happened?"

"It's not gonna prove anything."

The flickering light in the corner seemed to lend an atmosphere to the silence that followed.

"That time-did I say something wrong? If so, please accept my apology."

There was a look of concern drawn all over the senior's face.

"One-on-one doesn't prove anything. We're two different players. It's pointless."

"Oh."

Rukawa resumed his occupation. Minutes passed and Mitsui realized that the point of staying any longer refused to unravel itself, so he packed his stuff and headed to the showers.

For all his articulation, Rukawa knew he had spoken against his will. His desire to play against Mitsui was steadily growing for no understandable reason. It was beyond him. As a matter of fact, he had long ago abandoned the theory that 1-on-1 would finally reveal who the true ace was. The greater issue, however, was that he was no longer interested in finding the answer to that. Without any warning, a budding admiration for Mitsui was starting to swallow him whole.

But how then should he proposition a match without having to make it sound like a completion?

The biggest question, however, overshadowed the other perplexities of his position. What exactly was it that was pushing him to challenge the senior? He pondered in a staggering amount of denial if he still wanted to prove something. Or was it as simple as wanting to be…gulp…near him?

..

Kiyota Nobunaga rubbed the fine patterns of the armchair he was sitting on, sighing occasionally at the discomfort of the familiar environment. Mrs Komamura, his psychiatrist, had been shooting him a series of almost offensive examining glances.

"Let me get this straight; you can't stand his presence but you can't stand not seeing him for three days, am I correct?"

"No!" the freshman retorted in alarming annoyance, "What I'm saying is, I can't stand the way he acts and goes around with stuff in the same sense I can't stand not playing basketball with him."

"Kiyota-kun, that's pretty much the same."

"It is?"

"Yes. Now, tell me exactly and please elaborate. What are the things he does that make you uncomfortable?" Kiyota let out a huge sigh and shook his head as if the level of complexity of what he was about to impart equaled that of a 5000-piece jigsaw puzzle.

"I've never won a game against him. Not once. We've been playing almost every day for two weeks now and I always lose, like always. It's becoming dreadfully repetitive I might as well run around in full circles for hours on end."

"Hmmm…do you think you're getting better each day?"

"Of course; he teaches me stuff; he's almost like my personal mentor or something. But I suspect he gets better each day too and that's why I can't win." Kiyota finished, a grave look of disappointment shadowing his normally cheerful face.

"You want to defeat him?"

"Hell yeah."

"Do you think you can?"

"No."

The baffled Mrs Komamura began scribbling notes on her tablet which took her a considerable amount of time.

"You don't think you can defeat him yet you persistently go on knocking on his door every other day. You even go as far as claiming you can't stand him…why?"

A look of indignation and irritation struck Kiyota's expression so suddenly it seemed as though someone had made a humorlessly moronic suggestion of some sort.

"That's what I'm here for! I mean, that's what you're here for! I've been asking you that for how many days now!"

"Okay, calm down, Kiyota-kun. Let's, uh, let's skip that, and we'll deal with it later." She said, unfolding her glasses. "Next question; how does this person treat you? Is he impolite or perhaps, insensitive?"

"He's polite enough to open a grocery store's door for a robber. He never scorns my game and when I screw up he always gives me this we'll-work-on-that look. He often praises my me. I'm telling you, he's Mr Gorgeous Boy Next Door, Straight-A Jock, Kindness Incarnate, Perpetual Sportsman, Ideal Golden Child all rolled into one heck of a human being that is Kenji Fujima."

"Hmmm…Why do you despise him?"

An outburst of fits threatened to follow. Luckily, the rookie managed to get a hold of himself.

"I don't hate him. I just can't stand him because…because the more I see him, the more he infects me…"

"Please go on. Tell me exactly what you're complaining about."

"I—I can't stop thinking about him. I always picture his moves, the way he shoots, dribbles, rebounds, steals a ball. Come to think of it, even the way he looks at the road when he drives is a sight to behold, kinda. I just…" he trailed off and cupped his chin with his hand before letting it slide all the way up to his forehead. He again sighed, somehow feeling unburdened by finally confessing the things that had so long been shrouding his path to understanding what he was really feeling.

It was Mrs. Komamura's turn to speak.

"The things he does may have a certain appeal to you. Do you wish to be like him?"

There was a long pause, then, "Yeah."

"Does it scream insecurity?"

"No. I wouldn't be happy if he messes up but, yeah, I very much wish to be on the same level, skills-wise."

"You want to be near him?" she asked very slowly

"Yes."

She shut the tablet she was holding, placed her pen on the pen holder and rested her elbows on the table, exuding an air of professional confidence.

"Well, Kiyota-kun, this seems to be a case of, well—it doesn't have a scientific name, though I'm quite sure it's just a form of admiration, maybe adoration…if not worship or obsession…but, is there anything else you wish to tell me?" The psychiatrist said with confidence, knowing she still had not heard it all.

"I get nervous when he's near. I even blush…Dammit! Now I've said it! Aaargh!" Kiyota suffered a great deal panting after the confession.

"I knew it. Well, time's up, Kiyota-kun. But this may be is a mild case of, uh, infatuation, crush, if I may be allowed to say so."

"? ?" Kiyota stared at her, open-mouthed in aghast.

"What you should do is embrace the moment, seize the day. There's nothing to be upset about; he seems very nice to you. Don't spend your nights thinking about him. Just try to get a decent sleep. And I think you like him very much; you're just pushing yourself to believe otherwise. And there is where your problem lies."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

The telephone rang multiple times until someone took some time off slacking to pick it up.

"Hello." Sakuragi answered lazily.

"Hanamichi!" Came an excited voice

"Sendoh?"

"Hi!"

"You in the city? Where have you been, man?!"

"Yeah, I'm calling from home. I had to take care of something at grandma's. So sorry for the late notice."

"This genius had a lot going on when you were away."

"Really? Let's see it then."

"You bet. Meet me at 5pm in front of DC mall; don't be friggin late." Sakuragi said sternly and hung up.

"…"

DC mall huh? Are we gonna play basketball in Timezone?

The spiky-haired boy had only been waiting for six minutes when he was greeted by a beaming Sakuragi. Sendoh surveyed him from head to toe to get a load of the peculiarities of the freshman's get up. He was sporting a Birdhouse shirt over a white ¾. He had on a pair of mid low-waist cargo pants and a pair of Airwalks instead of his perpetual Jordan 7's. In other words, the only thing missing was a skateboard.

"What's with the attire? I thought—"

"What, you gonna go critical on me now?"

"No. Pfffft. You didn't bring a ball?" Sendoh asked, noticing the absence of his favorite object.

"What for?"

The sophomore stared at him, seeming rather cautious about offending the redhead. He instead concealed the look of utter curiosity by grinning, "So, what should we do today?"

Sendoh asked.

"We're gonna watch a movie." Sakuragi said and not a second later did he start walking to the entrance with greater than usual haste.

Sendoh tucked his hands in the pockets of his jogging pants, compelled to follow the redhead. The non-talking Sakuragi became a little too puzzling to discern but the sophomore didn't want to tear his patience to shreds by attacking him with an avalanche of questions.

He asked anyway, "So, uh, how does Fantastic 4; Rise of the Silver Surfer sound to you?"

"Yeah sure." Sakuragi answered without looking at him.

"You wanna grab a bite before or after the movie?"

"After. We'll dine at Chili's."

"Sounds good. You seem to have this all planned out." Sendoh teased, his lips cracking a very wide grin. At last the freshman was stripped of his defenses. He pulled to a halt, turned to face Sendoh and tried, and failed, to look casual.

"I'm going to treat you cos you taught me all those fancy footworks."

Sendoh blinked and deliberately assumed a look of defensiveness. Nevertheless, the hints of bemusement playing on the corners of his lips and eyes betrayed him.

"Fair enough…." He bit his lower lip to prevent a fit of giggles from escaping his big mouth, but being the bigmouth that he was, he continued anyway, "Is this a date?"

A brutal clash of irritation and embarrassment manifested itself on Sakuragi's face. Moreover, the deep blush that followed made it impossible to discern whether he had gone red from fury or embarrassment. He, then, with great difficulty, spared himself the trouble of prolonging Sendoh's tormenting pretense of innocence and said,

"Yeah, if you'd like to call it that."

It was the sophomore's turn to blush. He stared at the back of Sakuragi's head as though it was an experiment that had gone awry. Eventually they reached the ticket booth and Sakuragi was now reading the showing schedule when Sendoh spoke,

"Is this a romantic date?"

"Quit pushing it, Spikey."

"That's cute."

"Quit it already."

"I just have one complaint, though…" Sendoh paused, completely disregarding the freshman's evident annoyance, and continued, "You know, you should've told me you had something cooking up so I wouldn't have to come here with my awful practice attire."

"Should I have, really?" Sakuragi asked in severe sarcasm.

"Yes. So I wouldn't have to follow you around looking like your nanny."

"…"

"That's ok. You're still my date, right?" Sendoh said cheerfully, wrapping an arm around the redhead's shoulders without inhibition whatsoever.

"Shut up."

…

The afternoon sun reached its most orange state as it mingled with Kanagawa Lake's dark blue water. Rukawa locked his bike on a nearby railing and dumped his mp3 player, towel and extra shirt on the bench—only to find a familiar someone shooting hoops on his second most favorite place in the world, the Kanagawa public basketball court.

Mitsui became aware of his presence instantly. Upon impulse, he ceased throwing shots to pay cordiality.

Long before now, the freshman had erased the spectrum of self-doubt he had fostered. That said, if he still wanted to challenge the senior head on, he would have to make that clear in whatever manner he could afford.

"One-on-one, sempai."

"Sure." Mitsui agreed. He took the ball in his hands and passed it to the rookie, "First possession's yours."

Rukawa received the ball, only to find himself frozen and staring absently at the object.

"Something wrong?" Mitsui asked, relaxing his posture to allow his lifted arms to gradually fall down his sides.

"I just want to play; that's all."

"Same here, Rukawa."

"I'm no longer marking you as my rival."

"Oh."

"I've learned about our differences."

"Rukawa, this is just taking it too seriously. Let's put it behind us."

"Sempai, I'm sorry about last time."

"…" Mitsui struggled to learn where the freshman was leading the conversation to. With the silence at hand, a couple of minutes of mental deliberation had not brought him any closer to making the leap toward full comprehension.

"I admire the finely tuned balance of your playing style. And you're right, I'm a show-off."

"…" that was when Mitsui saw Rukawa for what he was; a dickhead who fell notably short in the logic department, "I didn't say anything like that."

"You implied."

"So you're taking out your insulted ego on this challenge?"

"No."

"No? Then what is this all about?" Mitsui asked, half-expecting the exchange to turn into a very cinematic moment.

"It's about playing against you."

Mitsui, for all the right reasons, still hadn't caught on the freshman's point. As it was, he remained unable to utter another word.

"…"

"Sempai."

"…" the non-existent dramatic progression of the conversation could have pushed any self-respecting person to at least comment about the weather or whatever lame excuse for a conversation of some sort. However, the senior, for some reason, was still at a loss for words.

"I wish we can always practice together." Coming from someone like Rukawa, those words brought with it overwhelming flattery, but there was certainly more to it than that.

"I—I've been spending a few hours in the stadium after practice sessions, right?" Mitsui stammered and paused to think before continuing, "Listen, Rukawa; I dunno if I should be glad about your sudden change of view about the 'tension' between us but I really wouldn't mind if you challenged me to a one-on-one every day. It will always be a good opportunity for me. It wouldn't bother me anymore whatever it might have meant to you, okay?" The senior finished and grinned amiably.

"It means a reason to be near you."

The weight of what the senior was hearing evoked a mental surge of raving confusion. It was very much like trying to draw Japan's map using vacation photos. In due time, evening began to envelop them in its darkness.

Getting late as the day was, Mitsui did not elicit the slightest hint of distraction. On the other hand, Rukawa never extricated his gaze from him for a second.

Mitsui finally spoke, "Well…you should've made it less complex. You should've gone straight to the point." as a handsome smile started to replace the blank expression he was formerly wearing.

"…"

Mitsui's grin grew wider but not a tinge of its pleasantness wore off.

"Next time, ask me to a movie instead; even coffee would do."

He finished, placing a hand on the raven-haired head and ruffled those black strands, leaving them messier than ever…and Rukawa, redder than ever.

"Sempai."

"Yeah?"

"Tomorrow then, Fantastic 4; Rise of the Silver Surfer."

"No problem"

"And…coffee later."

At this, Mitsui picked up the ball on the floor before saying, "After one-on-one."

"And…"

"Yes, Kaede?"

"I..."

"Haha…save it for later; I'll stay with you until late."

"You mean it?"

"Down to the last letter."

…

"Nobu-chan!" Kiyota woke up with the sound of a heavy fist pounding against his door.

"Damn it! What the hell is it this time, Karin?!"

"Someone's come to see you." With that, he hopped off his bed to open the door, and he did so abruptly it bounced almost halfway back.

"Who is it?"

"He said his name's Fujima. He's kinda cute."

A look of surprise and utter nervousness sparked a life on his sleepy face. He tousled his hair as he normally did before going out with a girl. After brushing his teeth hastily, he traipsed past his sister and made for the stairs, almost skipping his steps in doing so.

"Fujima-sempai."

The Shoyo star was browsing through their framed family pictures. He was wearing a small brown Def Leppard shirt, a pair of rather skinny jeans and a pair of Chucks. An electric guitar would have wrapped up the rock star look.

"Hello, Kiyota-kun."

"Hi…"

"Are you busy?"

The question quelled the rookie's thrill a bit but it did very well in amplifying his nervousness.

"No, uh, I've been doing nothing lately."

"You've stopped coming to the public basketball area. I figured training's gone really serious since then."

"Oh, it's not that." Kiyota said before he could stop himself.

"Then why haven't you been going lately?"

"Uhm…" Kiyota frowned before saying, "I just don't feel like it."

"Ok. I'll tell you something then."

The freshman looked up the senior. Some good four minutes might have passed until Fujima spoke again,

"It's been rather boring without you. Hahahaha don't get me wrong; I'm not taking pleasure in always defeating you…the point is, the ballers I've been playing against lately are no better than my six-year old brother. And since you've taken the fun out of these past two weeks, I suppose you owe me two weeks' worth of it." Fujima finished with a handsome grin.

Something has gone inexplicably bizarre here, Kiyota thought.

"Er, how do I pay you back?" the rookie asked, still trying to recover coherent thinking.

"Just put on some jeans; we're going to Karakura town"

"Fujima-san, that's two towns from here."

"I've got full tank today. Now dress up; fireworks will start in two hours."

Kiyota made his way back to his room, still trying to let the senior's words sink in. When all was done, he went down all dressed up to find Fujima already cracking the engine of his car to a start.

"So what exactly is there to see in Karakura?"

"Someone told me about some festival which sounded fun; fireworks, souvenirs, firecrackers… I forgot what they call it, though."

Kiyota mulled in silence for awhile upon finally remembering something.

"Fujima-san—"

"Kiyota, it's Kenji."

"Uhm…Kenji—san, er, I believe the festival they're holding down there right now is called Lovapalooza." Kiyota said all these very slowly to exact sense to the senior. Lovapalooza was basically a lover's festival. A pathetic excuse to display lewd acts without care for the world since everyone around would be doing the same. It had no particular historical importance at all. In all manner of consideration, perhaps only a desperate good-for-nothing lovesick puppy invented the silly event; it was just a gathering of lovers in celebration of their…love? How meaningless.

The freshman's heart threatened to tear his ribcage open because it was now desperately trying to jump out of his chest. Because Fujima's casual behavior, his utter coolness, was so foreign to Kiyota it was making him uncomfortable.

"Are you serious?"

"Huh?"

"About going to the festival?"

"Don't I look serious?" Fujima asked, smiling the breath out of Kiyota Nobunaga.

"Kenji-san, Lovapalooza is more like a party, exclusively for lovers…"

Fujima stared at him in slight confusion, "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"That's strange. Hahaha, my friend said it would be fun. To be honest, I never really got the details hahaha." Fujima was shaking his head, laughing merrily at what seemed like his own idiocy. "In any case, we're gonna get there just in time." He added, looking at his watch.

"Like I said, it's for lovers, sempai…" Kiyota said this very slowly to emphasize his point.

"Hmmm…that should be a good start for us." The senior said without looking at the freshman, though the latter could see a smile playfully waltzing around his lips.

The absurdity and beauty of what he was hearing outweighed the comfort of being near the senior, leaving him with nothing else to say.

"Sempai" Kiyota started.

"Hm?"

"It's gonna be a fun night for us." The freshman continued sheepishly.

"It's gonna be a wonderful evening."

END

Note: Thanks for reading.

ivybluesummers: Strider's left me hanging in the air that's why I

can't even finish 'A Prince's Diary' ...frowns... Hahaha I've been

requesting a few stories for her to write but she keeps delaying!

aaargh! she says hi though

mistress KC: where's the next chappie of 'Identured'? I'm

waiting...drums fingers... thanks for reading

mayfaire: mitru fandom is going extinct. i'm flooding this

Category. care to help? haha kidding, notify me if you have a

mitru coming up :)


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